Unlimited
by ElphabatheDelirious17
Summary: I will destroy him inside out. Even if I have to destory myself in the process. After the 'death' of Fiyero in the crossfire between the forces of Morrible and her own, Elphaba seeks a sweet revenge. Fiyeraba.
1. Inside Out

**A/N: Another one. Instead of writing chapters for the forgotten fics, I'm writing new ones. Don't worry, I'll get to making them. I've had no time, what with the epicentre of all things boring--I mean..school; at least, that's what those dictators there call it--nagging my brain into studying and working. Why couldn't I have inherited a broom from somewhere? One with _actual magical powers,_ not the worn down one I have that occasionally smells like sparrow piss. Or, I imagine it does. My imagination's been a bit overactive lately. And now I'm rambling on.**

**I just had to write this down before it erased itself from the depths of my brain. It's short, but the ending had to stay there or I would miss the perfect chance to use it, so don't badger me, or I'll set my dog on you. **

The noise of the crossfire shot through my ears as though a bullet had been fired straight through my eardrums. I saw many others clap their hands over their ears, but I didn't; I had to hear what was going on, despite the chance that I might become deaf. Although the shots missed me, they hit a great many of people. And there was Fiyero. Dear Fiyero. He was lying on the ground, his hands over his chest. At first I foolishly thought he was sleeping, but I was desperate for an optimistic outlook on life that didn't involve my slanted look, and I don't know why. He did look asleep to me, until I saw the flow of blood rushing from a sickeningly visible hole in his body. My scream never left me, and instantly, my mind went blank. It's funny how you can strive to empty your brains of stray thoughts when trying to concentrate on something, and even with an immense effort, you don't succeed, but in the most panicked, most tragic times, you don't even think of trying, and you get it right away. But you aren't even interested in succeeding; all you can think of is the tragedy. What a waste of effort, then.

And life since Fiyero's death has been hollow and empty. Though I'd like to see my college friends--dear Glinda, Crope, Boq--I can't. The underground life is one of sacrifices, and hermitage is just a miniscule fraction of them. But if I wasn't willing to make sacrifices, I wouldn't have chosen this life. It's for the good, or the great. Or the nothing at all. It's all a matter of what happens. And since my life has been random since I was born, it's hard to predict what will happen in five minutes.

As well as hollow, my life has been redundant. Wake up. Eat. Feed Malky. Sleep. Go to use the loo in between. And I it's possible my life would always be like that. Who wouldn't? Even with my appearance, I don't get much excitement.

The pain from the fall off the bed from twisting about in my sleep still throbbing in me, I hobbled around, getting dressed. As I opened the blinds I noticed some sort of ceremony, or assembly--whatever--happening on the streets. A load of Gale Forcers were parading around, chanting things. Naturally wanting to keep up with the rest of the world, I opened the door a crack or two, looking at the procession. It seemed to be some sort of announcement, and I was quick to scurry outside to hear it. Whatever it was, it must be important--hence the formal marching and chanting, which actually sounded a lot like yelling. Just in time, I tried to concentrate on the voices. All I could hear was, "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz will appreciate it greatly and you will be rewarded." Wonderful. I was too late, and I missed the most important part. But I heard people gossiping and discussing the news--leave it to them to start chattering the minute officials leave--and I managed to hear something. Apparently, the Wizard was looking for a secretary, an assistant--someone who'll help him sort out problems and such.

And as much as it sickened me, as much as I wanted to throw up on the spot because I felt so horrible just thinking it, I contemplated the matter. I thought of joining him. Though I'd like to fight 'till I die, I'm tired. I'm worn out from this endless battle. And it would give me an advantage. A way to get closer to the Wizard, to find his weaknesses. To defeat one's enemy, one must know one's enemy. It's just for battle purposes. It's not as if I'm actually going to consider full-on _joining _him.

At least, that's what I told myself.

But marching up there in broad daylight, to apply for the position, was senseless. _Position._ Pawn. How similiar those words are, both in meaning and when voiced. And then I remembered that day, with Glinda, saving her own skin at the meeting with the Wizard. But I can't be mad at her--she's just not meant for that kind of life. For the life of a fugitive from herself. She's happy now, if the propaganda says anything at all, and that's what matters.

_Do you even know the meaning of the word pawn?_

The words hit me like a slap, hot and stinging, the second time. And then, because of remembering that sentence, because of the wretched Wizard, I was determined to get the position. No matter what it took. Even if I have to retch into the nearest receptacle, or possibly on someone--because I really don't give a damn if they're covered in vomit or not--I will get it. For what he did to Fiyero, for what he did to _me_, I will destroy him inside out.

Even if I have to destroy myself in the process.


	2. Servant Life

**A/N: Wow. This is so surprisingly long. I can't believe I wrote that much. Well, enjoy. You better! Heh, just kidding. Sort of.**

**Disclaimer: They're not mine, so don't sue me.**

The long trek to the Palace--which I still absolutely abhor, despite the fact that Fiyero once pointed out you could get distracted by that because it was so shiny--was tiring and irritating. My hood, serving as a sort of mask, was pulled tightly over my head, and I could barely see anything, although I could tell where I was going by the way the ground changed shape and looked different. The path that led to the Palace was a bright, emerald green, and I could almost feel myself blend in with the crowd of gems assembled all around me. Randomly, I wondered what it would be like to be an emerald. Being green would be natural, and I wouldn't be original in any way; no one would stare or point. Truthfully, I can't imagine what life like that would be like. _Without _being unusual. It'd be horrid, I imagine; I'm far too used to my current life.

I had hidden my broom in the depths of my cloak, which was billowing out behind me like a short train on a wedding dress. I knew I'd need it, somehow. I always seem to find a use for it, even in the most unlikely times. Perhaps if has the power of making itself useful by managing to make something pop into my head. But I doubt it.

Even from afar, I could see that the Guards had abandoned their shifts at the doors in order to carry the message through the city. I could see them lumbering over to the Palace in pairs, but they were in no hurry; if timed correctly, I could fly over there and enter through the front doors without being noticed. Not that I'm running away, but they might get the wrong idea if they see me. Taking a look around to see if anyone was about, spying on me for sport--I really _am _paranoid--and thankfully, there was no one--I mounted my broom and soared up into the air; I had slightly forgotten the feel of flying, but I was still fine in the air. Before I could forget the task at hand, I sped on, nearly flying into a stray cloud. The wind rushing through my hair--and pushing it by blowing it all in my face--almost made me fly into a tree, as well--but once again I managed to keep my limbs intact. A few minutes later, I landed in front of the dazzling Palace doors, the guards only a bit away. Hastily I opened the emerald green doors and hurried in, remembering to close them; even idiots like them would be suspicious if the doors were left open. Running in, I looked at the board that showed the different rooms. The Wizard's "office"--I'd never thought it'd been called that before; it seems so strange--was downstairs--there was a stairway on my left--to the right. Not the same room I had seen him in the first time, with the show of dancing bones. Definitely not.

Following the directions, I turned left, went down, right, and arrived at a pair of double doors. To be truthful, I was not entirely hurrying as I attempted to pull open the surprisingly heavy doors. But as I heard footsteps and shouting in the distance--what had happened _now?_--I tried harder. The doors wouldn't budge. I looked at them angrily. Such stubborn doors. They might as well be donkeys--or Donkeys. But as I examined to see what was wrong, I saw the sign just beside them said, "Push". Well, then. I feel like an idiot. But no time to waste on banging my skull on the walls in exasperation; I pushed the doors, and, with surprising ease, they swung open. They could have been made of paper--but they didn't fall over and get blown away by the breeze. The Wizard looked up, abashed; good--I got the benefit of seeing his shocked face. Eventually, the surprise ebbed away, leaving annoyance.

"Well, look who it is. The green girl." He said, staring at me. "Come to disrupt the peace, I presume?" I paid no attention to his additional remark. I was there for a reason, and I could not--would not allow myself to--get kicked out for strangling him. Gritting my teeth, I managed to produce a sort of half-smile that I assumed made me look like someone with a frozen jaw.

"I'm here to apply for the position. To be your...assistant." I said, stopping myself from spitting the last word out like some sort of filth that had landed in my mouth. The Wizard laughed heartily for a minute or two, clutching his--hopefully--aching sides. How I hate him. After his little outburst passed, he spoke, still chuckling.

"_You?_ Why would _you _want to be _my_ assistant?" He said, and, finally understanding it all completely, he skeptically observed me, to doubt to see if I was armed and just stalling. Well, if I want to convince him, I'll have to put up a good act. Quietly, I respond.

"I-I can't fight you anymore." He smirks--really, how gullible--and I want to wipe that smirk off with a slap, but I remain in my place. When he replies, his voice is cold and skeptic, but taunting and merciless. I can tell he'll make me grovel. But it's for a good reason. _For good reason. For good reason._

"What made you come to your senses?"

"You--your army, your people--they're all on your side!" I screamed at him. Wow. Surprisingly, the truth sounds a lot like groveling, when put that way. Tears streaked down my cheeks, and I don't know how they got there--I winced at the pain. "You--you're too strong." My voice sounded like a naive child's, hopeless and desperate. I'd never heard that voice before; first time for everything.

"Yes, that I am. " The Wizard said, standing up from his chair and facing me. He ambled towards me, looking at me victoriously. "And you are lower than the filth that lurks in the sewers, you--"

"Oh, quit describing yourself and get to the point!" I burst out, despite myself, earning a slap. The sting mingled with that of the tears, and I forced out some more--they came quickly. I sank to my knees--some drama never hurt anyone. And though I convinced myself I was just acting, I wasn't entirely sure I was lying completely. The tears that I had kept under lock and key poured out of my eyes like out of a broken scuttlebutt, stinging my cheeks some more.

"You won't get anywhere by speaking to your superiors that way." He said, looking down at me, and I bit back a retort. Suddenly, he grasped my collar and dragged me up, making me gasp. That wasn't exactly something I had expected. Just as I was about to say something I shouldn't, I threw me down with surprising force. As I gasped for air, he walked around me, looking down at his prey. How I loathe him. As I looked at him, he kicked me a few times, hard in the small of my back, and my stomach. "That's punishment for talking back; I won't tolerate such things from servants." That I took to mean I was hired. Success! Well, except for the fact that I was coughing up blood on his precious carpet. "Next time that happens, you'll get more than a few kicks. My loyal guards will make sure of that." I looked at him with loathing, opened my mouth to say something, and smartly closed it. He noticed, and smirked. "You'll be a servant to start, nothing more. I don't trust the likes of you." He spat at my feet, and I had the impulse to wring his neck. But I stayed put. "You're to wake up at five o'clock, and go to sleep when you've completed your duties. Any _misbehaving, _and you'll find yourself headed for pain. You'll live here, so I can keep a close watch on you. I'll find an empty room somewhere. You will treat me with respect, and..." he paused for effect, "you will call me, 'Master'." It surprised me that I didn't throw up, but that was probably because I didn't have anything in my stomach to emit. Oh, well. Good news for the carpet, then. "You start right now. I will have someone fetch you servant's clothes. And since you carry around that filthy stick--" he gestured towards the broom, "you will sweep everywhere, every single day, unless someone tells you otherwise. I suggest you remember this: here, you are superior to no one. So start acting like it! Now get up!" Hastily, I managed to get myself to stand on my feet, as balanced as humanly possibly while still coughing up a storm, and the Wizard rang a bell as I stared at him with loathing. A guard rushed in, surprised at the sight of me. "We have a new servant here. Give her the required clothes." He said to the guard, then turned back to me. "Remember: resignation is non-negotiable. I am going to make your life here hell. Just remember: you applied for this." I stood there, unable to speak, but having enough sense to grab the broom. The guard dragged me outside, and told me roughly,

"Stay here." I nodded, and watched him leave. A few moments later, he came back, holding servant garb. It was a thin black dress.I stared at the tiny thing with hatred.Despite my conscience--which was determinedly telling me to leave immediately--I took the clothes and looked at the guard.

"Where's my room?" He grunted, and gesticulated to the right, where there was a small hallway lined with doors.

"Room 179." I nodded, and ambled towards the hallway. After a moment or two, I found my room. Gingerly opening the door, I saw a small bed, a table with a clock, the tiniest window of tiniest windows, and spiderwebs in every corner, as if to fulfil the cliche. There was also a big mirror standing beside the wall, looming compared to the rest of the furniture. I entered and closed the door behind me. After changing into the ridiculous clothing, I took a look at myself in the mirror. It was extremely short, and the straps were ripping. Probably worn by some short Munchkinlander girl. But I was lucky to have the job. After relieving myself in the bathroom at the end of the hall, I went back to my room, turned off the light, and lay down on my bed. It was hard and lumpy--but I suppose I'll have to get used to that--and I found it hard to sleep. But I closed my eyes, wondering what advantages servant life could possibly bring me.

What had I gotten myself into?


End file.
